


Love Letters

by HollyGlow



Series: Fragments of Life [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 11:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyGlow/pseuds/HollyGlow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Answer to a prompt from Renntastic on Tumblr: John finds a file of love letters Sherlock has written him but never intended to give him and John had no idea how Sherlock felt so finally he decides to write one back and he tucks it into the file for Sherlock to find the next time he goes in there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Letters

**Author's Note:**

> I was writing away when this popped up on my Tumblr dash and it just swept me up! It was written at something like 2 am in the morning so I have no delusions on grandeur about it. But it's cute and fluffy and here forever and ever.
> 
>  
> 
> Cay and I are starting a similar full length fic in the next few weeks called Experiments so look for that for more of an angsty/smutty version. This one is cute fluff!

                There was that box again, the one Sherlock normally guarded so well. It was just sitting there and Sherlock was nowhere to be found. It looked like he’d been in the middle of something when he’d been summoned away. John had just gotten home from the clinic and was standing frozen with his jacket halfway over his arm chair. If Sherlock wasn’t home he could look couldn’t he? He dropped his jacket unceremoniously on the chair and strode to the table. He opened the lid of the box and was surprised to see a stack of folded papers. He pulled one out marking his place, he knew better than to put it back out of order.

_John,_

_I still can’t find the words to express what this horrendous thing is crawling around in my chest. Sentiment, that I know it is. But what it is I can’t put my finger on. Once again you stopped me from going too far, saved me from myself. I don’t know why you do it. I haven’t been able to understand it since that first night. The way you looked at me as I realized it was your shot that saved my life… I feel like such a fool for this. This sentiment that I can’t express to you directly, I wish I understood what it was. It’s a fire that burns in my veins, especially when I see you with one of your dates. Those women can’t hold a candle to you! I wish you’d stop going out with them. Maybe one day you’ll finally observe this and I can finally know the words to describe it._

_Yours,_

_Sherlock_

               

                His hand shook as he looked over the letter again and again. He put it back and let his fingers roam through the box to another place.

_John,_

_I think its love. I’ve been trying to process it for two years now. The entire time I have had to stay away from you. Every day I was gone I felt like darkness was sweeping through my life. My mind palace was unlit, unused, and neglected because I couldn’t take my thoughts from you. Even as I struggled to break the web that held you unknowingly in its’ grip, I could not stop my thoughts from wandering to places I never expected them to go. To you, always to you. You’ve broken things off with Mary since my return and you’ve taken to lingering around the flat. I’ve seen how you try to catch my eye, try to get me to ask you why you’ve done it but I can’t. I just can’t voice these words. They’ve already put you in the path of fire. Moriarty… He would have stopped at nothing to kill you. My heart… The one thing I swore never to do. Curse you John Watson for awakening it!_

_I love you… Someday perhaps I’ll say it out loud._

_Sherlock_

               

                The letter drifted to the table and John was flushed. His cheeks warm and his heart pounding in his chest, these were all… All of them? He spent another twenty minutes picking up random letters and reading them and all of them were similar. He hadn’t dared to believe it. He’d left Mary because the thought of being away from Sherlock was like a knife in his heart. John saw the piece of paper beside the box and he understood – Sherlock had taken it out so he could write another letter but he’d been called away to a case. John picked up the pen and with a slightly trembling hand wrote out:

_Sherlock,_

_It is love. That’s what that fire is that burns in your veins. It’s in your eyes when you look at me and in mine when I catch you. It’s the electric tingle when our skin touches, that thrill that comes from knowing the secrets we share. It’s haunted me since the beginning and I’ve been too afraid to admit how I feel. I didn’t think you could allow yourself to feel anything, especially not for me. But now… Well I guess now I know don’t I?_

_It’s okay to be afraid. I am too – but I love you. God I do._

_Love,_

_John_

               

                He folded the letter, it was stupid and short but he heard a car door outside. He slipped the letter into the box, right at the back and closed the lid. He then moved over, scooping up his jacket and moving to hang it on the door. He fussed about with the kettle and had just finished making tea when Sherlock strode into the house.

                                “You’re home early.” He said softly, looking at John with some suspicion as he brought his tea into the living room.

                                “My last case cancelled. So they let me out early.” He smiled and sat down, nothing different in the way he was interacting with Sherlock. “Did Lestrade give you a new case?”

                                “Oh, yes.” Sherlock said softly, shaking himself from his thoughts. “Boring and trivial really, the answer was on the crime scene.” He moved about, fiddling with his violin before sinking into one of John’s favorite melodies.

                They passed a little while like this before John retreated to take a shower, intent on washing off that sterile hospital smell that irritated Sherlock. As John flicked the water on in the shower, Sherlock’s gaze fell across the box on the table.

 

_Christ!_

 

                He’d left it out? He hadn’t meant to do that. He walked over, his hands shaking slightly as he opened the lid. Nothing looked disturbed, he counted quickly and noticed that all the… There was one more. He could tell it was newer – the paper stood out against the others. Still a bright white and not ravaged by time spent in a dark cupboard. He heard the shower still running and with fear and curiosity he slowly slipped open the letter. He read it with shaking hands. His breath becoming heavy in his chest as the words filled him with some flighty delirious fluttering feeling. The shower stopped and John walked out in his dressing robe over t-shirt and pants. Sherlock turned to look at him, the letter trembling in his hands.

                                “John…” He whispered in a husky voice, his eyes flashing.

                                “What?” John asked quietly, blushing as he realized what Sherlock had in his hands.

                Sherlock easily crossed the room and pulled John into a furious kiss, gripping the lapels of the dressing gown tightly in his shaking fists. Their mouths met first with trepidation, then with nervousness, before blossoming into full on heat. When John moaned softly Sherlock let his tongue seize the moment to explore the doctor’s mouth, pressing him back against the wall outside the bathroom. John’s hands easily found their way up those long slender arms and into those dark locks, eliciting a deep moan from the detective. When they finally broke apart they were both panting.

                                “Sherlock…” It was part a question and part a plea. John wasn’t sure to make of this moment, but then again neither was the detective.

                                “Do you?” He asked timidly.

                                “Yes, Sherlock. I always have.” John replied as firmly as he could.

                                “You love me?”

                                “Yes, Sherlock,” His tone was exasperated but Sherlock simply answered with another soul crushing kiss.

                                “Thank God.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> As always comments, kudos, and prompts appreciated!


End file.
